Threadbare Excuses
by Clicio
Summary: As Fai slowly falls apart, he can no longer deny the things which bind him and Kurogane together. "Hello, Yuui of Nihon. I'm Yuui of Valeria, Fai of Celes. Nice to meet me." KuroFai. First fic.
1. Part I: This Lovely Game We Play

**A/N**: Hey everyone. This is my first fic, and it came out a bit dark - I tried to portray how unstable and insecure Fai's state of mind is in during the Infinity arc, as well as his new relationship with Kurogane. No sunshine-and-rainbows Fai here, sadly. I'm still trying to decide whether to keep it as a one-shot or to expand on it. It's rated T for language and uh, suggestive situations. Oh, spoiler swamp ahead, by the way.

2008/12/10 Edit: Fixed up a few things.

Reviews, comments and concrit are appreciated, of course. :)

* * *

Fai's POV, set in Infinity.

**Threadbare Excuses**

**I.**

--

It's getting increasingly more difficult for me to be around Kurogane.

It isn't as if the recent events that happened between us aren't enough, because they most certainly are. When I started this journey, I didn't anticipate losing my eye or my humanity. I didn't anticipate anything at all, in fact, except to eventually get caught and bound and brought back to Celes, my own personal freezing hell.

(See how special I am? I even get my own cradle of ice and death.)

That isn't true, actually. I expected a dying princess of sand, and a boy without a heart of his own, and I expected to kill a certain witch's pawn.

(A beautiful, dark-haired, ruby-eyed witch's pawn.)

…Confessing to Yuuko that I lost the reign over my own strictly controlled feelings was hard. That the very things I swore to avoid have branded themselves in my heart. Attachment. Affection. You know, the like.

(She didn't say much in reply, only that now my pain is their pain as well. That almost made me laugh a little. How cruel she is!)

No, no, it isn't that. It isn't even the newfound bloodlust that rages inside me, parching my mouth and forcing me to find somewhere, _anywhere_ that I can't smell Kurogane's blood, even though this filthy, inhumane craving certainly has a large part in my avoiding him.

The reason why I can't stand being near him now-

(as much as I need him beside me) -

-is that pair of crimson eyes that drill holes constantly into the back of my head, as if they can pierce right through my skull and pry the thoughts and secrets out of me by force. Those horribly perceptive eyes that see, but never judge, that understand but never convey any sympathy, only disgust.

(…Do you understand what I mean? No, I don't believe you do.)

I don't want his pity anyways. I want him to reject me, to push me away and to hate me as much as I hate him.

Sometimes, I feel bad for treating him so coldly after the acid-scarred country. He is never one to beg for forgiveness. His eyes would follow me from the place where he stands with a pained sort of emptiness, and I would slam the bedroom door in their gaze to get away.

And then he would drink himself to oblivion on the couch.

(The danger is always there though. Sometimes I find myself wanting to stare back, to drown myself in those pools of red. Surely it can't hurt more than it does already. The eyes haunt me enough in my dreams. They've started replacing the nightmares I have of towers and kings and snow.)

* * *

Syaoran is the first to retire for the night. It has been another long and gruelling chess battle, neither our side nor theirs giving way until the other team's leader collapsed from sheer emotional exhaustion, and Syaoran was slightly wounded in his leg.

He pushes his chair back from the table and stands up, swaying back and forth unsteadily like a pendulum.

"Goodnight, Kurogane-san, Fai-san," he says. Turning towards Sakura, he bows his head formally. "Princess."

He limps out of the room with a wistful look on his face, leaving the three (well, four if you count Mokona,) of us remaining sitting awkwardly in silence.

I busy myself by trying to hold my breath. It has been awhile since I last fed, and the scent of my bait wafting over the table to me is distracting, in a severe understatement. As if it has a will of its own, my eye slides involuntarily over to a tanned wrist and lingers there.

(Ihavetogetoutofheresomehow and _fast-)_

"I think I will go to bed as well," Sakura declares, and when she retreats from the table accompanied by Mokona, I'm all too eager to jump up and follow her out of the room.

Hah, I say childishly to myself. No blood for you_. _And I feel triumphant even though I'm actually denying myself, but you have to understand, for me this was normal. As normal as snow in the summer is for Celes.

(And what does this tell you about my mental health? Nothing. You know nothing. _He_ doesn't know anything either.)

Two crimson pinpoints burn holes into my back for an instant as I leave.

(I lied. He knows everything.)

I tuck Sakura underneath her covers. She hugs Mokona to her chest tightly, and looks up at me with sudden tears streaming down her small face.

"Fai-san," she chokes out, her frame shivering as if she is cold. I pat her hand gently, already knowing what this was about. Every night, it is the same. The princess breaks down in an emotional wreck, only to piece herself together next morning into a flawless, unbreakable shell of a girl.

"It's Syaoran-kun," she sobs, clutching at Mokona as she falls apart. "And his clone. They're the same. I tell myself that they aren't but the way they look and act, and today when he got injured because of me, I thought I didn't care but I _did _and it _hurt_- "

(Ah, don't cry, my princess. When you hurt, I do too.)

What can I say to her? She has just lost her most precious person. She tries to distance herself from this new Syaoran, but I see her resolve faltering as she notices the old clone in him.

At the very least she is having more success distancing herself from Syaoran than I have with Kurogane.

So I keep quiet and don't say anything, and stay by her side as Mokona wipes the tears from her face, chirping, "Don't be sad, Sakura! It makes Mokona sad to see you cry!"

She sniffles once. "I'm so sorry, Moko-chan, Fai-san. Especially you, Fai-san! I can't even imagine what you must be going through… I have no right to complain..." she trails off, exhausted, her eyelids fluttering shut.

And after a moment she falls asleep with streaks of salt on her cheeks.

I bend down and kiss her forehead softly.

A little part of me breaks for the boy and the girl, both so consumed by their own fears and sorrows, both with no one to turn to but themselves. Maybe in another time and place, another dimension, they would've had each other for comfort, but hitsuzen doesn't seem to work that way.

(Damn you, hitsuzen.)

But now, I have my own set of problems to worry about.

For when I step out of her bedroom and shut the door behind me, _he_ is there with his permanent scowl, glowering from his position on the couch. I don't meet his eyes, instead unconsciously letting my gaze slip again from the line of his neck to the dark veins on his wrist.

(Can you hear that? Ba-dump, ba-dump. Beautiful, I say. The sound of life.)

I feel trapped.

And I have to get out of here before I do something that I will regret.

Kurogane looks at me as if he knows exactly what is passing through my mind. And I'm pretty sure he did. To think that before I met him, I actually thought that I can fool everybody, that my play-pretend was perfect. What irony. He tears down the masks I so carefully put on.

(He knows me intimately without ever knowing anything about me at all.)

As the seconds tick by, I feel the blue magic drain from my eyes and a feral gold replace it. A hunger (or rather, thirst), builds and wraps itself around my throat. My, I never realized just how hard breathing normally is.

(I don't think you appreciate how bad it was for me. Imagine starving for half a week, and your favourite food – a steak, perhaps? Well then, imagine breathing in the scent of the steak while you stand famished. To see it oozing gravy before you, to hear it sizzle in the air. It's like that for me, every single minute near Kurogane. Except much, much worse.)

I blink slowly, trying to regain control of my instincts. The blue returns momentarily, and my eyes focus. Talk, I command myself. Or run. One of the two. Don't just stand there.

"Well, Kurogane! I'll turn in for the night then." I smile blandly, as if that makes a difference.

Oh gods.

He is just _sitting_ there, clueless as to how unbelievably _mouthwatering_ he looks, and in more ways than one, too.

Pressing myself against the wall like he might jump up and attack me any second, I try to stay as far as possible as I sneak towards my bedroom. Technically, it is 'our' bedroom since someone up there thinks they are being funny by forcing us to share a room in almost every world-

(Damn you again, hitsuzen.)-

-but with the circumstances between us, Kurogane insists that he is far more comfortable on the living room couch. Where he isn't near me and doesn't have to deal with me tossing about with all my nightmares anyways.

He doesn't mention that it is him who wakes me from my nightmares. He doesn't mention that I latch onto his shirt desperately for something solid to hold onto, shaking and covered in cold sweat. He doesn't mention the things that he hears me mumble while unconscious – mostly the names Ashura and what he thinks is my name.

Fai. Dearest, dearest Fai.

_(Kurogane's gaze flickers towards me from his bed across the room. I grin over to him, propped up on my elbows and squinting a bit from the morning sun streaming in through the windows. The light halos his black spikes, casting his face in shadow._

"_It seems to be a nice day today, Kuro-puu! Perfect for feather hunting, don't you agree?"_

_His face darkens, and I immediately realize what is coming won't be pleasant. What did I let slip now?_

_He pauses. Oh, so he doesn't know whether or not it's in his place to ask. How…considerate. The edges of my mouth start hurting from pulling upwards._

"_You had another nightmare last night," he states flatly._

_The smile freezes on my face and my mind frantically starts rewinding and trying to remember. Yes, I did dream. No, it wasn't a good dream. What was it about?_

"_Why," Kurogane asks, "were you screaming your own name?"_

_No. Not him. Not now. Kurogane couldn't know._

_I pull the comforter up to my shoulders and laugh uneasily. "I can't remember my dreams, Kuro-chan. That must've been some dream though."_

_He snorts disbelievingly and looks off to the side. He has no eyes for liars._

"_Maybe," I suggest as cheerfully as I can, "I was afraid of myself?")_

I successfully reach the bedroom door, and I am already past the threshold when I do something incredibly stupid, even for me.

I turn around and look back at Kurogane.

My one eye meets his.

"Hey," he says nonchalantly. "Are you going to drink tonight?"

(Oh dear.)

Immediately the disgusting dark blood in me jumps forward at the chance, and I am hit with a wave of thirst so strong I almost double over. The edges of my vision flicker and turn red.

(Damn you too, Kurogane. I was doing _so_ well in ignoring you.)

I grit my teeth and attempt to smile, but I don't see why I bother. It probably comes out looking more like a snarl anyways. Instead of declining politely like I plan to, I find my legs moving towards him until I'm looming over his sitting form.

(My plans never seem to work out. Plan to save Celes? Failed. Plan to not fall in love foolishly? Screwed over. Plan to get away from murderous king? Not botched yet, but for how long?)

Kurogane looks up at me, his face blank and his arms crossed over his chest. The Thirst speaks to me, oh, how nice, he isn't even wearing his chess collar so you get a nice view of his neckline! I shiver with anticipation when I note this fact, and I lick my lips, but I don't think I'm supposed to, because I'm currently trying _not_ to succumb to my cannibalistic instincts, remember?

Control yourself, my logical mind screams. This is exactly what you don't want, you're losing everything. You lost your mind long ago; you lost your soul to the king and your heart to this man you have to _kill_ and now you're losing control of your body as well!

Oh yes, I remember now.

But Kurogane uncrosses his bandaged arms from over his chest and holds them out to me like an offering and I say back to that the logical part of my mind, damn you as well, at least I'm losing my body to Kurogane. He's the only fucking person who understands.

(At least, until he finds out about my past. Fratricide, genocide, attempted suicide, I'm not dense enough to think that he will forgive me if he ever finds out-)

Forget about that for just one minute, the Thirst pleads. Forget about common sense.

(What do _you_ have to lose? Me, I had almost nothing left.)

Leaning forwards until I am half in his lap and wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders, I rest my cheek against the chiseled line of his jaw, my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, trying to breathe as much air as I can into my lungs. The smell of his blood floods my senses.

Kurogane freezes beneath me, his entire body tensing. This isn't what he was expecting, no doubt. He can probably feel my breath whispering past his neck, my fingernails digging into his back.

"Mage," he says warningly, leaning away. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

(I don't answer. Do you think that his question merits an answer? Really? Because I suppose that he will find out soon enough.)

I slide down a bit, and I almost groan out loud. His pulse. My ear is pressed right against the steady pulse in his neck. Ba-dump, it goes, and the Thirst inside cheers. I press one hand flat against his ribcage, my long fingers splayed across his chest. I close my eye– what a wondrous, amazing sound this is, the beating of a human heart, and the thought makes me dizzy with happiness because I like to believe that this heart is beating solely for me, but that's just me with my sick wishes again and it's most likely the other way around-

(That my heart is beating for him? No, no! It's beating for Fai, my twin, my other half, which is most definitely _not_ Kurogane…)

But the Thirst is demanding, and so I reach up, drawing one fingernail over the thin skin which covers the pulse, as light as a butterfly, really really careful as if Kurogane is the breakable one between us. A drop of red appears.

(Look at it forming there; don't you agree that it's beautiful? So beautiful, like a shiny crimson pearl. It's mine, too.)

I inhale sharply, savouring the scent, and slowly, ever so slowly, I tentatively lean in and take an experimental lick. Oh! How can I explain the taste of blood to one who is not a vampire? It's even better than liquor, and twice as intoxicating.

(Don'thatemeformyweakness, please don't hate me-)

Kurogane stays as still as a statue. His hands are at his sides and gripping the fabric of the couch so hard that his knuckles are paper-white.

"Mage," he repeats, his voice coming out in a hiss. I look up. He stares past me, purposefully not looking at me, his jaw clenched and his face carefully expressionless, but the heartbeat that is speeding up under my fingertips does not lie.

(Oh, how he trusts me! Trusts me so much, when I can't even trust myself. Here I am, one hand around the neck that I can snap easily, the other over the heart I can claw out with one slash with my nails, and my fangs are not inches away from his jugular.)

Yes, he trusts me, but that doesn't mean he isn't suspicious still. I could feel the tension lacing the air, taut like a bowstring, and I tasted the apprehension in his blood. There, at the thought of his blood, my attention is pulled back to the glimmering line of red again.

A trickle has already stained the tip of his shirt. What a waste. I lean in again, brushing my lips down the length of his neck, and then I bite down hard.

(…words cannot define…)

I can try though, but then I'll have to pull the intensely emotional words out. Words like obsession, ecstasy, revival. But to put it in terms that everybody understands, I shall say that it tastes like fresh water after running a mile in the desert, or like honey when one has never tasted anything sweet before.

Kurogane shudders, and his hands reach up and tangle themselves painfully in my hair, tearing at my locks except I can't feel the pain because I'm too far in and in too deep and I can't for the life of me remember why I was denying myself this, this-

(I hate myself. I hate myself for being weak and for losing control and for needing him and I am ashamed.)

I pull back, panting. My chin is covered with streaks of blood and saliva, and I wipe my mouth on the back of my sleeve shakily. Kurogane is also breathing heavily; eyes glazed over and dull from the blood loss. He sinks into the sofa, head lolling to one side, leaving the bite marks exposed, and they burn into my eyes.

(Kurogane, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- Look what happens, this is all your fault, you should've just let me _die_ when I asked for it.)

(_"Kuro-chi?"_

"_I told you not to call me that!"_

"_Do you love me?"_

"_Huh?! Hells no."_

"_Kuro-sama?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_The children love you this much!" I stretch my arms out wide. "But I love you even more!" I bring my arms back so that I'm hugging myself._

"_What the fuck are you babbling on about now?"_

_He says that, but his eyes flicker over for a moment, scanning my face and trying to read the meaning behind my seemingly careless words. Trying to see if I was serious. Unsure if I meant it. _

_I act indifferent._

_He must not like what he sees, because he buries his face in the wide collar of his cloak and doesn't look at me for the rest of the day.)_

It doesn't occur to me to get off of his lap, and he doesn't try to move me either. Instead, he frowns at me tiredly.

"…What does my blood taste like?"

What a strange question. It tastes like him, of course. Him and life. I stare at him, my cold façade building up again. I don't deserve Kurogane. I hate him, I hate him so much.

"Like blood," I reply simply. "What do you feel when I'm drinking your blood?"

Something flashes across his expression for an instant, and then it was gone and he says abruptly, "Nothing." Which of course tells me that there's more to nothing, and I am seized with curiosity. Does he feel what I do?

I bend over to lick the last traces of blood from his neck- and suddenly he grabs me by the metal ring of my chess collar and pulls me up so that my face is right by his, and so that I can see all the little scarlet lines of his iris and the endless black void of the pupil-

(just a little _closer_)-

-and I become conscious of the fact that he isn't staring at my eye- (which was blue again, infinite sky-blue)- but my mouth. My lips, stained with his blood, to be exact.

(Come _on_.)

I let my own eyes drop to his lips – they are slightly open. I narrow my eyes disdainfully. "Don't believe that your blood tastes normal?" I sigh against his mouth. "Why don't you try it out yourself?"

His eyes actually slide halfway closed from my provocation, and I think he breathes my name once, but I can't be sure.

"_Fai-"_

-Before his fingers tighten around the collar ring and he pushes me back violently, with so much force that I fall off his lap and stumble backwards a few steps, landing sprawled out on my back on the floor.

"Get out. Go to sleep," he growls dangerously.

I stand up stiffly, glaring daggers at him. "Kurogane, I- "

"_Out."_

I turn around without another word, and slam the door hard behind me, standing motionless for a moment before sliding down into a fetal position and covering my face with my hands. I lick my lips tentatively.

(I keep telling myself nothing is wrong; do you ever do that? Well then you should know that it never works.)

This isn't the first close call I have with Kurogane. And it sure as hell isn't the last.


	2. Part II: Hypocrisy, the Traitor

**A/N:** And Part 2 is finally up! Featuring the wonderful Celes arc that we all love. I personally think that Kurogane and Fai both realized that their feelings for each other were mutual during Acid Tokyo, but both (especially Fai) remained in denial throughout Celes. Oh CLAMP, you and your conflicted love plots just kill me. And make me write fanfiction.

This chapter is dedicated to Priceless93, because she sorta bribed me into this. It will probably be tweeked a bit later on, but for now, reviews, comments, concrit welcomed, as always.

* * *

Fai's POV, set in Celes.

**Threadbare Excuses**

**II.**

--

We land in Celes with a swirl of fur-trimmed cloaks, right in the middle of a snowstorm. The wind launches flakes against my exposed face, clotting my lashes, but that's all fine with me because I'm used to it. This is probably late summer anyways. Beside me, Syaoran and Kurogane flinch visibly as they feel the teeth of cold sink in.

(Home, sweet home.)

I feel Ashura all around us, in the air and in the ice and I want nothing more than to grab the two remaining people I care about in all the universes and teleport out of this wretched place. But I can't.

Why am I here? What the fuck am I doing back here?

Of course. Because it's my fault again. Because I made the mistake of miscalculation. Oh! Sakura, my friend, my princess, my _daughter_ almost- she would be proud of me now, wouldn't she?

For once in my life, I'm not running away from anything. I'm here in Celes, with every intention to kill the king.

I feel so proactive. So proactive and assertive and afraid.

(I'm probably going to die, you see.)

We've landed at the outskirts of town. In the sky above the horizon, Ruval castle on its wings of crystal is barely visible through the torrent of snowflakes.

I remember the days when I walked through this very same street, trudging through layers of crunchy fresh snow, while the people passing by paused and bowed to greet me. They laughed, delighted that the high mage was passing in front of their humble homes, and reminded me that if I ever wanted cinnamon cocoa, all I had to do was visit. I recall declining politely, even though the windows glowed with the invitation of warmth.

How much things have changed since then.

Beckoning to the rest of the group, I lead them to the nearest house, pushing the unlocked door open on splintering hinges and praying that there wouldn't be a corpse inside.

(There isn't, thank goodness.)

Pulling my heavy hood back, I glance around the room. It is mostly bare; the occupants must have fled before Ashura got to them. There is a snow-filled fireplace against one wall, and in front of it stand two cushioned chairs.

"Are we staying here?" Syaoran's dubious voice reaches me, his breath materializing as mist. I nod. His brow furrows in that determined way of his, and he starts, "Princess Sakura's body-"

(Remembrance. Guilt. Quite a horrible, sinking feeling, guilt is- water trickling down a rusty drain.

Drip, it goes.

Drip.)

"The king won't harm Sakura-chan's body for now," I say, looking away to the slate of white outside the window panes. "And he'll stop the blizzard when he wants us to approach him."

They stare at me blankly, seeking elaboration, but I close my mouth and leave it at that.

(I imagine piercing Ashura-ou's throat with an arrow of magic and blood spurting out from between pale lips and I think to myself, I can't do it, I can't kill him.

…Drip.)

There isn't much hesitation on my part though as I write the word _fire_ out onto my canvas of air, and the letters shine brightly for a moment before igniting into embers in the fireplace. The cheery flame illuminates the room somewhat, and we all instinctively edge closer. It feels good to use my magic again.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Kurogane dust snow off his shoulders; he walks over to one of the chairs, looks questioningly at me- (_what are you standing there for_?), finally takes a seat, looks away.

After so many dangerous confrontations, it's the only thing I allow myself to do.

Watching him watch me.

(This dance- the avoiding, the stares, the unspoken things left hanging, dead in the space between us- it's getting tedious.)

Despite Syaoran's stammered protests, I sit on the ground beside Kurogane's chair and leave the remaining seat to him and Mokona. He stops me, however, when I offer him my outer coat.

"Keep it," Syaoran says, not unkindly. "The princess told us to take care of you, not the other way around."

I smile, of course, and mumble something about him being such a polite boy with none of my usual exuberance. I tell them to get some rest, that I will stay on guard, watch for the end of the storm, and wake them if anything happens.

I don't actually think that anyone would manage to fall asleep, but Mokona seems to be able to sleep on command, and Syaoran didn't have much time to recover from his battle with the automata. Even Kurogane's breathing evens after an hour or so, and I lean back against his armrest, listening to the wind wail beseechingly outside.

Left alone with my thoughts and weary, I watch the fire glow and melt the ice crystals cemented in the brick.

(I'm going to die.)

Tomorrow is the day everything that has ever begun will end. Ashura will close his eyes for the final time, and I'll join him in death. To be honest, it doesn't sound so bad, sleeping forever.

As long as it's a dreamless sleep. No towers, no kings, no red eyes.

I am so certain that I am going to die that I start thinking back on my life. My life, half of it spent wasted among bodies in a place without time.

(What have I accomplished? Nothing. What will I leave behind? Nothing. What will I regret? Nothing.

…No, wait, that's not true.)

I turn around from my place by the armrest and stare at Kurogane's sleeping face, watching the flickering fire chase shadows across his features, somewhat wishing to reach out but then feeling stupid for wanting such a thing.

He's always so silent when asleep. I've never heard him snore and he rarely tosses about. The only thing that shows he isn't awake is the soft rise and fall of his chest, and his undisturbed, almost peaceful expression. He looks so different when he isn't scowling or threatening to kill me.

Kurogane. A lot of things have happened after that close call in Infinity.

Right now, his blood hums gently to me, a suggestion rather than a demand. I find that I don't get as desperate if I obey the blood and feed regularly, which is never as often as Kurogane would like, but he isn't complaining as long as I don't try to starve myself.

I lean up and examine him silently, careful to estimate and maintain the inches that still separate our faces. The black stroke of his eyebrows, the sweep of his jaw up to the contour of his nose, the slight curve of his lips- staring longer than I should, ah, I want to touch him- will I regret not being able to see him after I die?

And then a more disconcerting thought- will he miss me?

(What a selfish, selfish person I am.)

I start to reach out, pause, but then I figure that all men on the death row have a plausible right grant their own last wishes- so I place two fingers lightly on his cheek and his skin feels warm to my fingertips even under my gloves. That should be fine, right? The only parts of us touching are separated by a layer of fabric.

Kurogane's eyes flicker open, immediately alert. A flash of red irises- he blinks once at my proximity and the hand that is now cupping his face; then he must see the resignation and defeat in me, because his expression contorts into something akin to pain.

A momentary stillness settles as we once again try to communicate without words, staring at each other, probing for something tangible and reaching for something truthful, but I'm not very good at that; after all, I am a word magician. And a liar.

Something shifts, and time passes with all the consistency of ripples on a lake; I turn away with my eyes downcast. He wants to say something, I can feel it, and in that one second I know I don't want to hear whatever it is he wants to tell me.

"Mage-" he starts, his voice low, and so intense with purpose that it rings in my ears. I glance over briefly at the sleeping forms of Syaoran and Mokona, and shake my head.

(I shouldn't have started this, I shouldn't have woken him up-)

Kurogane looks at me, keeps his gaze trained on mine, perhaps expecting for it to turn gold or perhaps waiting for permission to continue. Without thinking, I trace ghosts of circles with my thumb over his cheekbone and I watch, fascinated as he tilts into and away from the touch all at the same time.

He frowns. I stop.

"Mage," he tries again. "I promise-"

(Don't.)

"Now isn't the time," I interrupt quietly, smiling my faded smile. "We can talk later." And that's a blatant lie because we both know that there might not be a later.

Kurogane narrows his eyes and grips my arm with an alarming urgency. I wince, but I don't actually feel any pain, only the heat, the curled pressure of each of his digits around my arm. "Fai," he hisses unrelentingly, and I shudder at the sound of the name.

(No. I can't.)

"Listen to me," he says. "I-"

I raise a finger to his lips, cutting him off. I am not smiling anymore.

"Silence." My voice is cold.

For I know that if I let him continue, I would no longer have the urge to confront Ashura, no longer strive to save Fai, no longer covet death, because then I would have something real to live for.

He lets go of my arm, furious at me, and I try my best at the non-verbal communication by pushing all my hopes and fears and apologies into one glance, hoping the sentiment shows through, and I understand that it isn't enough, it would never be enough.

(But it's all I can give for now.)

But there's one thing left. I brush my fingers across his lips in a last caress and then pull back my hand, staring at the plain black cloth of my glove as if it contained all the answers to the questions between us. I press my fingers to my eye patch.

"If… I die, would you miss me?"

And I receive nothing but silence as a response.

* * *

Thundering heartbeat. I try to draw strength from my group.

The pair of golden eyes from my childhood turn to me as I push open the gilded door to the throne room. They watch me kindly, and in that moment I am face to face with dear death.

I choke. "Ashura-ou."

Syaoran and Mokona are on the ground, collapsed under the weight of pure murderous intent and the waves of magic radiating outwards. Ashura's eyes flick from them to me, where they rest for a moment- then to Kurogane, then back to me. I shift in front of Kurogane instinctively, and Ashura smiles.

(Possessive, aren't we?)

"Fai, you've returned to me."

"I was hoping I wouldn't have to, my king," I reply, and then he takes a step forward and a spell washes over me, so powerful it makes the hairs on my neck stand up, covers me like a blanket and settles in the air like smoke.

"You left us waiting," he says.

I look up and see the mirror-panes of my memories surrounding us- (no, please don't) - and Ashura spreads his arm out wide to reveal the tiny body of Fai under his cloak. Fai stares at me accusingly out of caved eye sockets set in a wrinkled, pallid face and the mirror above us shatters into a thousand pieces.

Something in me shatters too.

(A bit of a beginning of the end, maybe, but I can't really think straight anymore because as scenes flash before me, Kurogane's eyes widen and Ashura keeps smiling his kind, loving smile.)

The shards of my past rain down.

_(Night finds me in my twin's bed again, clutching his tiny hand in mine and staring at wide blue eyes so identical to my own. I press my forehead against his, our noses touching. Wordless communication, once upon a time. A time when I am not yet fluent in deceit._

"_What is it?" I ask softly._

"_Yuui," he whispers. "What will you do when you become king?"_

"_We'll become kings together, the two of us. Twin kings."_

_He flips onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillow, and his voice is muffled when he says, "But you're older than me. You're supposed to become the king."_

_I pull him closer. "Well," I say confidently, and how naïve I am, how innocent. "That'll be the first law I make. That you are also crowned king, so everyone will obey you too."_

"_Then the first law _I_ make as king is that the birth of twins isn't a curse, but a good thing to be celebrated," he sighs sleepily into the silk of my pyjamas. "And the second law is that mothers can't leave their children, they have to stay and love them and be nice mothers. The third law…"_

_And I laugh in delight and look out the window, but clouds cover the stars.)_

Fai, _Fai!_ I'm on my knees, shaking, and Ashura stands before me benignly, waiting, waiting calmly for me to go to him.

And I do; the humiliation is unbearable, but I stagger towards him and he holds his hand out to me, and I grab it with my own. I kiss it. Somewhere in the back of my mind it occurs to me that I might be drunk on a spell he's casting on me, but for now I'm just as entranced by him as I ever was. He lifts his cloak again and I take Fai in my arms and-

"You made a promise to me, remember?" Ashura looks expectantly at me through liquid amber, always smiling. He then says something else but I'm not listening anymore, because I turn around and see Kurogane, and everything freezes.

(He knows. I see the prison-tower and the blood and the truths fly past his eyes as I witness the memories replay like a nightmare, and I think in terror to myself, he knows, he knows my sins, and he glares at me with so much hatred that my heart sinks with despair.)

I hold onto Fai like a lifeline, trembling, coming apart at the seams- and when Kurogane snarls and draws his sword from the summoning circle I cast on his hand, another memory descends on us. I raise my arm towards him, magic gathering, crackling under my skin, and he points his blade at me.

_(I am half undressed, sitting on the ground with my robes pooling around my lap, my legs crossed and my staff on the ground beside me. I'm positioned between two mirrors._

_I am examining the new tattoo that adorns my back._

_My eyes follow the intricate lines of the phoenix, from the crest down to the cleft of the tail, memorizing the patterns, wondering absently if there is the spell that gives you wings._

_The air is chilly._

"_Do you like it?"_

_Startled, I watch through the mirror as Ashura comes up behind me and appraises his handiwork thoughtfully. _

"_I do, your majesty. It's beautiful." My timid voice echoes back to me from vaulted ceilings._

_Then he does something unexpected; he places one finger on the body of the phoenix, right on my spine. I gasp in surprise and arch back, biting my lip to keep from calling out and my body curves impossibly as that finger traces the column of my spine down, then back up again languidly, stroking each ridge. Shivering, I try in vain to grab onto the smooth surface of the mirror for support, and so instead I brace myself against the edges. The hand withdraws._

_Ashura picks my robe up and wraps it around my shoulders steadily, as if nothing out of the ordinary just happened. He steps back._

"_I'm glad," he says. _

_He leaves, and I don't relax until the reverberation of his footsteps fade._

_Sweat covers my palms, but it seems even colder if anything.)_

I'm attacking Kurogane with all of my power, aiming to kill. The atmosphere is melting with energy, and with a sweep of my arm birds shoot towards him, shrieking and clawing. He knocks them away with his sword and comes towards me, closer- I really don't want him to die, but I guess there's no choice now huh, because he's in my way-

-and all I can feel is that damned drip-drip of guilt again, before it's overwhelmed with a reckless abandon because Kurogane hates me now, and that's all that matters. Funny, there's a time not long ago I remember, when I _wanted_ him to hate me as much as I hated him.

I still hate him now, really…

(Hatred. The excuse is running thin, and I know it. That's my life in a nutshell: a fragile web of love and subsequent death held together by threadbare excuses. I can keep saying I hate him to the end of time and we'll still both know I'm lying.)

But I love Fai more. He's dead and rotting but I need to live for him, need to stay for the resurrection of his soul so I can return to him his name.

I can't die.

Ashura watches the battle, amused and knowing, waiting his turn, probably delighted that I'm so eager to kill the person that my soul is connected to.

Kurogane lashes out, his swing crushing more of my memory-mirror, and then he's _right in front of me_, his eyes hurting me more than any blade can. My breath hitches in my lungs.

"_Get away from me_!" I scream, my voice wrought with hysteria and my birds cut into him, throwing him across the room. He lands heavily beside Syaoran, and he winces as he climbs to his feet.

He's bleeding, I note. Because of me. The Thirst peers out but doesn't speak, now isn't the time.

He comes closer again, and I swipe at the air, a whip of magic composing itself but this time he's ready and his sword slices down, cutting Fai in half.

The heavy spell that hung over me dissipates immediately; I am thrown into a state of disorientation, and before I know it Ashura smirks and pulls the body of Sakura out of the lake.

_Sakura_. My princess. He has Sakura. He is going to _hurt_ Sakura.

Well now, this changes everything.

Kurogane and I move at the same time.

_(Ashura is tucking me into bed, as he does every night although I am already far past the age. The moonlight flooding in from the window shines on his raven hair and fractures in his ice-crown. He looks ethereal, and something within me stirs._

_He arranges the blanket, brushes aside my bangs and kisses my forehead, and turns away to leave. Disappointment washes over me._

_I don't know what I am thinking, but in a burst of boldness I sit up and hold onto the hem of his cloak._

"_Ashura-ou," I plead hoarsely. "I'm not a child anymore."_

_He looks at me, sees my glazed eyes, the shameless blush on my cheeks, my raw yearning. He smiles and tucks a strand of my golden hair behind my ear, and I whimper._

"_Ashura-ou…"_

_Bending down, he takes my chin and presses a chaste kiss onto my lips. My heart leaps up to my throat and I cling to the front of his robes, seeking more, but he removes my hands and shakes his head._

"_Goodnight, Fai."_

_He leaves me in my room, and I almost cry in frustration.)_

(Kurogane raises an eyebrow at me when he sees this last memory. I hope Syaoran and Mokona didn't see it…)

It's only one moment when my magic barrier around Kurogane sputters, goes out; and it's in slow motion that I see Ashura aim the icicle at his chest. Probably takes less than a second for it to pierce the air, cross the distance, hit its target, but for me it seems like an eternity and in my mind there's shouting, shouting so loud that I can't make out the words.

The icicle carves open Kurogane's side, and he falls soundlessly to the ground.

"…_Kurogane!_"

"Kurogane-san!" In the back, Syaoran struggles to pull himself into sitting position.

Ashura inspects me calmly, as one might inspect their nails, his hand still lingering near Sakura's throat. "Why," he murmurs, not moved in the slightest. "That man must have been quite an important person to you."

"You-" My voice cracks. Breathe in, breathe out.

(Hold back the tears; don't lose focus just yet- he's still alive, and he's strong, he can overcome it, he can't be killed by a thing like this- right? _Right?_ He still has to keep his promise to me, he still has to kill me for calling him names and for wanting to die and I told him we would talk after this is over, so that he could tell me what he was going to say last night-)

And a hideous feeling I know well laces itself around my heartstrings; why, it's nice to meet you again, grief. Long time no see, how have you been?

(What do my feelings matter, after all, in the grand scheme of things?)

I lose precious seconds, shaking violently and in shock, torn between running to Kurogane's side, and killing Ashura for what he just did.

- (Trying to remember those healing spells I never learnt; a whole lot of good smiling will do now. Kurogane, I'm sorry I pulled you into this, I don't care if you hate me and regret saving me now and stop giving me blood, just be okay.)

With a burst of energy I rush towards Ashura, our magic colliding and sending chunks of the marble floor scattering across the room. I grab onto Sakura's arm, tugging her with all my might to me, and when she's out of harm's way, I leave her soulless body with Syaoran. The boy grimaces from the pain, accepts her with shaking hands. At least my princess will be safe for a while longer.

There is something wrong. Breathing and standing are becoming laborious tasks, and I can taste metal in my mouth. Ashura waits patiently on his pedestal for me to steady myself, to recover my magic.

I never do. But this can't go on any longer.

Kurogane lies motionless on the ground, the blood pooling.

"Your Majesty. Let us put an end to your wish," I say. "And mine."


	3. Part III: Noose of Red Thread

**A/N: **As all of you know, I'm not a fast writer, but your reviews keep me going! Seriously, without you readers, my life would be like Oreos without milk. Unhappy, lacking, and incomplete. So, hearts to all of you, except I only have one, so you guys will just have to share.

Whew, broke 10k in three chappies, and quite a lot happens in this part here. The fic started out as a character portrait and a stream-of-conciousness test, but hark! Is that a plot I see? I also tried to work more with dialogue, since it has been brought to my attention that I don't have quite enough of it, so.

Reviews, comments, and concrit are awarded with Oreos.

* * *

Fai's POV, set in Nihon (Japan).

**Threadbare Excuses**

**III.**

--

_(Ba-dump._

_Trickling seconds. Oozing time. An unrelenting, iron grip around my wrist- no, please, let go, survive- can't you see the walls collapsing around me? Can't you stop believing in me _just for once?

_Kurogane levels his gaze with my own._

_My voice breaks. "Go." Sharpened sighs, breathing on pins and needles. Pain blurs everything except for his face._

_He lets go._

_The rush of relief is immediate, but at the same time I feel a sort of awed disbelief. I don't want to die. My shame, my humiliation, it doesn't matter-_

_But at least he lives. And he has made his decision. In this moment, there is only him and me._

_Him._

_Me._

_Us. )_

For some reason, I'm still alive. But _Kurogane_. His arm.

(Where are we?)

Ba-dump, ba-dump.

The cacophony of his heartbeat no longer holds any beauty for me, and how can it, when each thud is getting steadily slower and fainter, so that I have to strain my ears to hear it? My unravelling mind turns each beat into a reassurance, a mantra, and it repeats itself over and over again.

(Live. Live. Live.)

It is what I focus on. A dark-haired princess with the most sincere violet eyes stands above us, and the whole situation could be jovial and almost funny if not for the sick, perverse irony of it all.

We're in Nihon.

And if my vision isn't so flooded with red (the wrong shade of red, the crimson of blood instead of the hue of eyes which are closed, stay closed), I might see closer the land that I have often wondered about, might appreciate how the pink tendrils of dawn slant down against the magnificent palace around us.

But it is, and my ears are congested with the sound of his fading heart and my nose is filled with the enticing, metallic scent of blood, his blood or mine, I don't even know anymore-

(The Thirst grows teeth and gnaws its way out of the leash that I had around it, and it whines and protests the waste of the food that is spilt.)

"I welcome you all warmly to the country of Nihon," Tomoyo is saying, and an unsettling thought strikes me. _Kurogane's princess. His master. _My eye flashes gold.

The medics waste no time in surrounding us, and hurry, can't they move any faster? They approach me with a stretcher- No; I'm fine, go help Kurogane. The princess inclines her head. "I apologize for not giving you a proper greeting…"

I realize with a start that I'm clutching Kurogane to me, my hand pressed desperately against the stump of his arm. The blood has seeped into the sleeve of my robe, drenching the material and making it heavy- oh god, _why the fuck isn't it stopping?!_ There's so much of it, and I keep myself sane by thinking happy thoughts, like how Kurogane is going to open his eyes any second now and shout at me for holding him-

(…and how easy it would be to stem the flow of the blood with my mouth instead, putting that fountain of liquid life to good use-)

_-_and how _Kurogane saved my life again_ _even after knowing all my faults…_

(I dare not hope.)

He'll live. He's strong. He will live. He will live.

"Fai-san," Tomoyo calls me gently; I'm not surprised that she knows my name. She probably knows many things about me already, but I start and draw Kurogane closer.

I must be a sight to see, hair matted with dried blood, my once snow white coat speckled with scarlet, my remaining eye flaring from blue to insane gold, back to blue again. She doesn't seem to mind though, because she crouches down daintily beside me, expression sympathetic, and her tiny hands gently pry my fingers from Kurogane. As soon as I let go, the medics swarm in like vultures, picking him up and placing him gingerly on the stretcher, leaving a trail of red droplets in their wake.

I stare after them. Syaoran places a hand on my shoulder.

"Are you injured, Fai-san?"

Shaking my head mutely, not trusting myself to speak, I stand up, stumble to my feet clumsily. Tomoyo says something to Syaoran and takes my hand, and she starts leading me along the wood-paneled walkway. I follow without question. No words are exchanged between us. The aura of calmness and acceptance she has around her is humbling, and reminds me distantly of my own princess.

I understand why Kurogane would swear his life to her. He's safe now. He's under her care.

(The saturated smell of red. I'm seriously considering putting the sodden sleeve of my coat to my mouth and sucking the blood out from there, I wonder how it will taste- ah, Princess, wait, I'm getting your hand dirty. You shouldn't touch someone like me.)

We pause in front of a sliding door. Tomoyo lets go of my hand. The morning breeze is cool, and I shift awkwardly, uncertain whether it would be impolite to ask where Kurogane was taken.

The girl indicates the door. "This leads to the private bath. I took the liberty of assuming that you would like to get cleaned up after what you've just been through. There is clothing for you inside." She pauses, as if realizing something, and then adds, "Kurogane's room is in the east wing of the palace."

"Thank you," I manage.

"Not at all. I should be the one thanking you for accompanying Kurogane on his journey." She smiles at me as she walks away, and I summon a shaky grin back. I wonder just what her dreams have told her about me. How frightening.

Entering the room, I slide the doors shut. There is a wooden tub already filled with hot water; the billowing steam clears my senses a bit, and the air is thick with the fragrance of the salts. I shed my layers of clothing, one by one, and they form a pile around my ankles.

My bloodied coat lays discarded on the ground.

(It hurts.)

I slide into the tub bit by bit. The heat pricks at the surface of my skin, and the blood in my hair goes drip- the water is dyed pink with abstract swirls. I take my eye patch off, and how morbid I am, staring vacantly at my mutilated reflection.

"I'm sorry for not bringing him back home safely," I say to no one.

_(__In Yamano, you're given a bar of lard and a thin grey towel that was maybe once fluffy and white, and then you're pointed towards the river._

_I must admit, when it comes to personal hygiene, I'm rather spoiled. In Celes I had my own bathroom, complete with marble tiles and a clawfoot bathtub and taps that were charmed so that they never got clogged with ice._

_But here, we're sent one regiment at a time into the freezing river to clean ourselves. At least the water is clear._

_Armed with my towel, I lower myself into the stream along with many other people. The coldness doesn't bother me much, but the leers that stick to my body do, and I can't wash them off like I can dirt. I don't like it, but in the military there is no privacy. And no women either. I just wish I wasn't the next best thing._

_Oh well. Scrubbing at my arm absently, I feel sorta sorry for the unfortunate guy who comes too close to me. There's always some stupid fellow who wants to "get to know me better"._

_Sure enough, a young man approaches me, nude and all doe-eyed and attentive, and he starts talking to me in his lyrical, childish tongue; I don't understand a word of it but I smile pityingly at him anyways. Doe-boy grasps a lock of my hair and pulls lightly at it, as if testing to see if it was real. Yes, there is a lot of speculation about my hair colour in camp._

_I wait for him to let go, but he doesn't, and my eyes narrow the slightest bit. _

_His own eyes widen, and he immediately drops my hair and steps back. I sigh._

"_Kuro-chi, you're scaring all our co-workers away!" I complain. Kurogane stands behind me, unclothed and without a shred of modesty, beads of water clinging for dear life to his bangs. He catches the dreaded nickname in my sentence, and he turns his scowl from poor Doe-boy to me. _

_He growls a string of foreign words with the name "Fai" thrown in somewhere, and I imagine it to mean something along the lines of "Fai, you're a fucking troublesome bastard, you know that?" Yamano is the only world so far where he calls me by "Fai" instead of "mage". A minor improvement, and necessary with the language barrier. _

_Kurogane whips his head back towards Doe-boy, and gives him a withering what-the-hell-are-you-still-doing-here glare, and with that, Doe-boy is backpedalling so fast that he almost trips over another bather._

_I reward Kurogane with a grin and a pat on his head. "Kuro-puppy makes a good guard dog!" I have no qualms about giving away casual touches. Not yet._

_He points to himself. "Kuro-GANE."_

_I nod solemnly and point to him. "Kuro-puu."_

_He fumes.)_

* * *

Their diagnosis for me turns out to be over-exertion, mild haemorrhaging, and acute stress reaction. When I ask, they bluntly say, "You're traumatized."

(Is that so?)

They act strangely around me, and when I make eye contact with them, they turn away fearfully. I wonder if it's the vampire thing? Do they think that I am a monster? Probably.

I enquire about Kurogane's condition. He's unconci-uh, sleeping, they tell me. Don't disturb him.

So I try not to. Wearing my new kimono (which was quite hard to put on; I had to get help), I kneel beside Kurogane's unmoving form, feeling out of place and awkward; how is one supposed to act around a comatose man?

They report that it's only blood loss, hypovolemic shock, that he should wake soon- I look at his pale face and the white, white bandages around his arm, and reassure myself with the now steady heartbeat.

I count the beats, lose count around six hundred, start over at one.

I stay still. Waiting for red eyes, thinking about Syaoran and Tomoyo who are with Sakura's body- about Ashura, my fallen king. I listen to the alluring hum of Kurogane's blood, and absentmindedly rub at the purple bruises left by his fingers around my wrist.

"You saved me," I suddenly state out loud, feeling foolish for pointing out the obvious.

He doesn't stir.

There is no clock; the light passes from morning to late afternoon. The silence yawns and stretches, unfolding gradually longer shadows.

After I don't know how long, I break it again. "You don't hate me," I say in wonder, and as soon as those words leave my mouth, I recoil. I'm shocked at myself- at the truth in that statement, and what it might mean.

(He can't hear me, right?)

"You're finally home, Kurogane. Just like you asked the Witch." I pause. One of the nurses comes in and checks on him, ignores me completely, leaves. I finger the black crescent moons sewn into the silk of my clothes. I'm wearing his symbol.

"You're home, but I've lost mine. You're home, but will you leave us now? Will you remain here?"

(Will you leave me? No, that's not the right question.

It's something more like:

…_May I stay?)_

He doesn't answer. I stand up, and my legs ache from kneeling for so long.

"I don't hate you either," I tell him.

Walking outside, I find that the sky has donned the lusty colours of sunset, and that the first stars are visible. Scanning the heavens, I don't recognize any of the constellations.

(It was almost always overcast in Celes anyways.)

"Fai!" Mokona bounces up to me and buries its pudgy body into my shoulder. "You were in there for so long! Is Kuro-puu alright?"

I dutifully repeat what has been told to me. "He's fine, just sleeping."

"We were getting worried! Syaoran was going to come fetch Fai for dinner, but Tomoyo told him to give you some time. You aren't hungry, are you?"

"Not at all." At least, not for food. Never for food anymore. I pat Mokona's round little head. "I would like to speak with the Witch, if that's alright with you."

Yuuko looks as beautiful and as elegant as always; I assure her so. She chuckles lightly, and tells Mokona to sleep.

I ask, "How is Sakura-chan?"

The witch breezes past my question. "Well, Fai? You must have called me for a reason. What is your wish?"

"An arm. For Kurogane."

She raises a delicate, penciled eyebrow. "Oh? There is a price, of course."

"Of course," I repeat. "Anything."

(It's the very least I can do, really. An act of apology, perhaps._ Sorry you got stuck with me, better luck next time._ Or a thank-you gift for seeing whatever tentative worth he does in the pretence that is Fai- Iam cursed and blessed at the same time in having met him.)

She considers me. "Just what's left of your magic. Don't worry, you won't die. The vampire blood will keep you alive."

"Done," I say at the same time a voice from beside me chimes, "Long time no see, Yuuko-san."

I start and whip around, causing me to feel light-headed. My, I must be very out of it; I didn't sense the approaching presence at all, but this fact doesn't bother me as much as it should.

It's only Tomoyo though, and she turns to me with a smile. "Kurogane-san will be waking up soon. Shall we go and greet him?"

My heart skips half a beat. "I- ah, yes."

"Please wait outside for a moment. I will call you in." She enters his room and slides the door shut behind her.

Then follows five long minutes; they each pass with excruciating slowness and I stand with my head bowed, outwardly still, but how my inside struggles with anxiety…

(What should I say to him? I have no clue- my mind runs through dozens of reconciliation scenarios, but really, since when has anything between us been as simple as an "I'm sorry"?)

Yuuko isn't helping, with the amused glint in her eyes and her painted fingers tapping her chin- thank god she doesn't comment- and then a voice, that high, ringing voice from inside the chamber.

"Sorry to have kept you waiting. Please step inside."

I do just that.

(The sliding door opens once more; it takes one second of savoured relief. Five long strides to cross the room. Fraction of an instant to finally, _finally_ see the red eyes open and filled with- what is it? Caution, mostly. It takes stinging knuckles, three words and one nickname to untangle that red thread and to _forgive_-)

To forgive. To be forgiven.

The first genuine smile in recent memory breaks my face, and Kurogane - he's grinning too. And I walk over to him, pull him back into sitting position, and then clutch his hand with so much force it's almost like I'm trying to break his bones, it's alright, he's solid; and he clutches back just as hard because it's a scary feeling, almost losing the other.

Tomoyo slips out, leaving us and a conspiratorial wink for me. I barely notice, my concentration on Kurogane, and only him.

I sit in front of him, on top of his sheets. "You, Kuro-sama," I say to him, "are an idiot."

He stares at me oddly. "I don't regret it."

"You should." I tug at the front of his robes. "May I?"

"I don't." He shrugs his consent, and I pull the front of his robes open and slide it down to his waist to examine his bandages. Tight and clean. Nihon's nurses, they did a good job.

"What about your arm? It's not exactly replaceable."

"You aren't either." Matter-of-factly.

"And what about my past?"

He gives an impatient huff. "Does it _look_ like I give a damn about your past?" he says, except I don't really hear it because there is skin, tanned skin decorated with jagged scars and divided by a strip of bandage. I place my palm against his chest, feeling the smooth texture of the binding.

"You deserve better," I say softly.

"Don't make my decisions for me."

"You hypocrite."

"It was my choice."

"I'm not worth it."

"_Dammit, Fai!"_ he roars, and then his voice drops, low and firm. "Let me decide for myself how much things are worth to me, for once."

(Amazing. Here is a man who sees me, life laid bare and exposed with all of my faults and who _doesn't care._)

"Thank you." Not knowing what else to say, I close my eye.

"_You're_ the idiot," he replies quietly.

And then, I feel rough fingers on my cheek- it startles me but I stay still, not daring to move. Their warm pads brush my face with an unbearable softness, and oh, it's almost painful how acute the sensation is, his veins next to my own. Listening to the sound of blood rushing like a waterfall under that thin membrane, I keep my eye closed. The hand slowly traces the shape of my ear and reaches out behind my head, brushing through golden strands.

In one deft movement, it pulls on the ribbon keeping my hair in a ponytail; untied, my hair falls around my face and grazes my collarbone- what is he _doing_?

My breathing becomes shallower, like when I see blood but I don't think this is the Thirst talking; no, it isn't. Almost shyly, the fingers trail down the side of my face again and rest on my bottom lip, and I remind myself to keep the air flowing in and out of my lungs- hello, you might not be human anymore but you sort of still need oxygen to live-

I start shaking. Minute tremors wrack my body. He should know by now my atrocious lack of self-control, but that isn't the point. What he should _know_ is that such intimacy between us is taboo, was always impossible to begin with, absolutely _unthinkable_-

(Falling, falling, I can't stop the downward spiral even if I tried, and to be honest, I don't particularly want to; but tell me, who would?)

A chance at a future. I give up trying to hold back.

Slowly, I relax and rest my head against his chest, pressing my ear against it, and now, now the sound of his heart is miraculous and beautiful again. Kurogane doesn't pull me closer, doesn't push me away, just lets me lean against him.

(My own heartbeats fill the empty spaces between his, and for the first time since my twin died, I feel whole, and it's so perfect that it makes me want to cry.)

Ba-dump, ba-dump. I press my lips lightly against his heart.

He nuzzles the crown of my head. "You will stay, won't you?" he asks into my hair.

My eyes open. "Yes," I say. Reluctantly, I withdraw myself from his chest and pull myself onto my feet. He holds onto my hand.

"Yuui," he calls me.

"Yuui is dead," I murmur. "I am Fai now." Gently, I remove his fingers from my own. "Don't worry, Kuro-pii. I will still be here tomorrow."

Kurogane looks at me with an unreadable expression, his dark eyebrows drawn together as if confused. He watches me leave his room.

Night has fallen in earnest outside. The walkway is sparsely illuminated by lanterns which create puddles of light under them. In the far corner of the courtyard, a group of black figures huddle together by one of these lanterns- curious, I steal closer, keeping to the shadows, my eye automatically bleeding into gold in order to see clearly in the dark. Yes, my vampirism gives me many advantages against my natural prey.

"-wonder how Kurogane got cut up like that, there's no way he would let anyone do that to him-"

"Who could be that powerful?"

"-his eye! I swear it was gold-"

"-could be a demon, surely-"

"No, it was blue, I saw it myself-"

As I get closer, I realize that they're talking about me. There are six people in total. I can make out their faces; judging by their outfits, a couple of them are sentries, a few are maids, and there, I see the nurse that came by this afternoon to check on Kurogane.

"The man spent the entire day in Kurogane's chamber, just sitting there," she tells the others in hushed tones. "I peeked in from time to time. He didn't move an inch for _nine hours_, and he started talking to himself about something."

A maid shifted from foot to foot worriedly. "You don't think he was casting a spell, do you?"

"Probably waiting for an opportunity," a sentry replies confidently. "I was there when they arrived- he was holding onto Kurogane with this demented look on his face, looking at him as if he wanted to eat him."

The maids squeal loudly in fear, whimpering things like "I hope Kurogane's alright!" and I suppress an amused chuckle. These people, they know absolutely nothing about us.

(It's too bad that I've made such a bad impression, although I suppose it couldn't have been avoided.)

Looking unconvinced, the other sentry speaks up. "But the Princess seems to trust him."

"The Princess is so kind that she trusts everybody," the nurse snaps impatiently, and then her voice drops. "Listen. While I was still working by the villages about three years ago, I heard the story of a cursed boy. He is said to have strange yellow-coloured hair and blue eyes. He has a brother. They're known in that village to be called the _twins of misfortune_."

My blood runs ice-cold and I flinch. It can't be-

"He called himself… I can't remember. Y-something. Yuki? Yue? Yuu-"

(I should have known. Damn it. _I should have known_. There is no escaping my past.)

"Good evening," I stride out into the glow of the lantern, smiling pleasantly. Several of the maids shriek and stumble back, and the sentries place their hands on the hilts of their swords threateningly. I raise my hands in a gesture of goodwill, even though my eyes speak otherwise.

"That," I chide, "is definitely not the correct way to treat a guest. Especially when said guest only has a question to ask this lovely lady right here." I turn to the nurse.

She glares at me defiantly and gives a mocking curtsy. "How may I be of service?"

(Congratulations, you were all right! His eye is both blue _and_ gold, prizes for everyone!)

Stepping closer, I give her my most charming smile, and watch her fight to keep her scowl in place. "I just so happened to hear the interesting story you were telling. Would you mind enlightening me," I lean down, so that I'm staring straight into her eyes, "as to where the village with the twins is situated?"

"Why do you want to know?" she sneers.

(To hell with good impressions.)

My voice drips, saccharine and dangerous. "I asked you a question, miss."

She shivers involuntarily, and the sentries draw their swords. "Fine. You want to know, so I'll tell you. It's about twenty miles down in the direction of the setting sun."

I breathe out.

"Thank you," I say, and I turn on my heel, breaking into a run. The stable won't be hard to find; I'll just follow my nose. I wonder how meeting myself will be like. "Hello, Yuui of Nihon. I'm Yuui of Valeria, Fai of Celes. Nice to meet me." In any case, I have to be back before Kurogane wakes tomorrow morning, because I promised him.

(And it's about time I start keeping my promises.)

That reminds me. I told him that we would talk after the battle with Ashura, but I don't have time to think about that now anymore; I have a race scheduled with the sun.


	4. III'1: Doppelganger

**A/N: **This chapter is dedicated to bloodyindy for her encouragement! Also to all of you reviewers and your obvious awesomeness. ;D So, uh, I really don't have an excuse for taking so long. Mostly because other fandoms have been pulling at me (Kuroshitsuji, Reborn, Code Geass, xxxHolic)- but I can't leave my dear Kurogane and Fai even if I wanted to (and I don't). Oh my god, my chapters are getting longer and longer. ._.

Okay. Now that there's plot, you guys have to tell me if it gets too confusing and whatnot. Of course, reviews, comments, and concrit are much loved, annnnnd uh, I don't know if anyone actually read the authors notes (good for you if you're reading this now! :D) so in your review, tell me who your favourite manga/anime character EVER is. If you can't choose one, just list a bunch. c:

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO...

* * *

Fai's POV, set in Nihon (Japan).

**Threadbare Excuses**

**III.1**

--

I am staring at my reflection, and it is identical to me in all sense of the word save for the fact that it has two eyes, not one, and that it is dressed in robes different from the one that I am presently wearing.

It opens its mouth, this strange, altered double of mine. Blue eyes flash, and my body lurches forward involuntarily as fatigue takes its toll. My head stings with pain. I want to spit the remains of blood out of my mouth, _(disgusting in comparison to his, his-),_ but wouldn't that be impolite of me?

The not-reflection speaks. "I believe you. What now?"

(Yes, yes, that's a good question. What now? I don't have a single fucking clue.)

But I'm getting ahead of myself here.

* * *

On my frantic search for the stables, I have the sense to stop by Syaoran's room. It seems to me that locks do not exist in this world- flimsy, decorated paper is all that divides me and the inhabitants on each side of the walkways. What a sense of security the Japanese people must have! No one answers my hesitant knock on the screen, and I can't help but feel like a criminal as I slide open the door and look around inside.

Syaoran is asleep, not on the cushioned mat laid out for him on the floor, but sitting by a lone lantern, a scroll unrolled in his lap. The markings on the scroll are in black ink, unfamiliar and flowing. The smoothness of the lines makes me think of a serpent, or a river.

(I wonder, will I ever be able to read those words? Ever be able to communicate with Kurogane and Tomoyo in their tongue, without the help of Mokona?)

Mokona. I'm here for Mokona, and quick glace reveals that the creature is dozing comfortably in the crook of Syaoran's arm. Inching closer, I try really hard not to disturb anybody.

(I fail miserably.)

"Fai-san?" a semiconscious Syaoran mutters, his voice thick with sleep. "Is that you?"

Removing Mokona from his arm, I whisper, "Yes. You should be dreaming by now, it's late."

The boy's eyelids flutter closed obediently, and his next words are so quiet that they are almost incoherent. "Are you going somewhere?"

For some reason, that question makes me feel almost guilty. "Yes," I repeat. "I'm just going to borrow Mokona for a bit, alright? I'll be back soon."

I receive a non-committal "nng" as my response. Seeing him this tired makes me realize he isn't the only one; I am going on almost sixty hours without sleep, having stayed awake on guard last night in Celes, and even before that I had problems sleeping in Infinity.

Restful sleep had eluded me all through Infinity, in fact.

(No big surprise there, if you consider who I had to share a living space with; my habit of sleeping face-down in pillows became quite useful for filtering out a certain someone's scent…)

That's all in the past now, thankfully. Pure adrenaline is the thing that has kept me going for so long, and coupled with an unhealthy dose of fear it's enough to keep me on constant overdrive. Fight or flight. Now, I'm running on only anticipation; a nice large cup of caffeine wouldn't do me any harm.

Stepping back out into the walkway, I try to orientate myself. I can smell the stables on the wind- the dryness of hay and the musk of animal- but it is faint. I guess my heightened senses are meant more for prey of the human variety.

It takes me some whole five minutes of focused walking before I sense a person following me.

(I'm losing my touch, alas, although what's left of my logic tells me that my reactions are dulled from blood loss and tiredness and that _I should really get some rest; _but you should know full well by now that logic and I don't exactly go hand in hand.)

I slow my pace until I come to a halt. The presence doesn't slow or stop; it comes closer, and it reminds me so much of Kurogane that I almost turn around. I restrain myself in time.

"May I ask what you are doing out at this hour?" A high, steady voice.

I look up and see a female figure perched on the roof. "Ah." I recognize her face as she leaps and lands lightly in front of me, soundless as she bends her knees to cushion her fall. "You must be the exquisite Souma-san."

That explains why I mistook her for Kurogane. They're both ninjas. They both move like shadows.

Surprise replaces the initial wariness on her features. "How do you know my name?"

"We met you in another world," I tell her, watching as the surprise gives way to full-blown disbelief. I recall the memories of Outo fondly. How long ago was that? A year? Two? There is no solid definition for time between worlds.

_(The Clover Bar. The sharp pain of a twisted ankle, the crisp tang of an emerald-coloured martini, the song sung by a voice of windchimes, the strong shoulder that supported my weight, arm around my legs to keep me in place. _

_The city of Elsewhere. Far away.)_

I shake my head to clear it and return back to the task at hand. Souma tails me, skirting the edges of lamplight and looking very much like a part of the darkness, stealing glances at Mokona who is still asleep in my hand.

"Where are you headed?"

"The stables."

This is greeted with a brief pause, then: "Why?" The unasked question in her mind: How the hell do you know where it is?

"I need a horse." Innocent smile, albeit a bit strained.

"…And why is that...?" Who gave this permission to an uninvited guest like you?

"I'm going to a village. In the west, about twenty miles away," I say.

(I'm going. As in, don't you dare try to stop me.)

She doesn't object, but she asks for the reason again.

"Because I need to confirm something."

Souma looks at me as if she thinks I was absolutely insane, but she does it in a respectful way, like how teacher might look at a cooing mother with an obnoxiously spoiled child. And I can guess the other questions that she has- who the hell I think I am, for one. Right now, I don't think I can provide her with an answer. I'm not sure either.

(If this world already has a Yuui, already has a Fai, then what does that make me? An extra. A person who, quite frankly, isn't supposed to exist.)

"I will come with you," she announces suddenly, and it's my turn to be surprised. "I cannot leave an honoured guest unaccompanied, and you will need a guide to find your way."

I'm not sure if she is trying to be kind, if she thinks it's what Tomoyo would do, or if she plain just wants to keep an eye on a suspicious character like me- but I'm happy for any help she is willing to offer.

We reach the stables with me wondering silently how I'll manage to ride a horse in a kimono.

That becomes the least of my concerns when the night air is shattered by bellowing whinnies, getting increasingly shriller as I draw near- oh, shut up, the sentries will hear! The horses know that there is a predator among them and they stare at me with eyes white with fear. Souma immediately goes around calming the steeds before they can wake anyone and I try to suppress the vampire blood as much as I can. It works: my eye turns blue, and I promptly lose my ability to see in the dark. Hmm. That won't do.

I conjure up an image of Kurogane in my mind, _ah, the Thirst_, and voila, my night vision is back. The horses are inconsolable- they snort wetly and paw at the dirt with great hooves, keeping close to corners and walls and away from me.

(I wonder if I should be offended. Oh, you silly ponies, I have no intention of eating you! Wasting precious time…)

There is one white stallion that seems less affected by me than the rest, and I approach it cautiously, just in case it decides to rear, but it stays in one spot tossing its mane.

"That one is the Princess' personal steed," says Souma in clipped tones as she bridles a chestnut-coloured horse, and she adds reluctantly, "You are allowed to ride it if you wish. There is an exclusive sidesaddle the princess usually uses as well."

Well, that's unexpected. I decide not to question her out-of-nowhere generosity, but I suspect that Tomoyo has a large part in it. That also explains why Souma offered to guide me.

(A spiteful voice in my head calls attention to the fact that riding Tomoyo's horse on _her_ saddle in a silk kimono _she_ gave me probably isn't the best way to show thanks.)

I will have to repay the princess back in someway later.

We depart quickly. As the landscape rolls by- low shrubbery with the rare spindly tree- a metronome forms: the steady clip-clop of hooves. Not slowly, not yet a gallop. A brisk trot. Stars titter above our heads and play hide and seek through the navy clouds, while I just try to get used to riding sidesaddle after a lifetime of riding astride. It feels like I'm about to fall off. Mokona snores soundly on my lap.

Tired. It feels like my eyelid is being dragged down by deadweight; every movement is me trying to function at the bottom of an ocean, the pressure of the water pressing down on my head, clogging my ears. Whenever I start to slump in my seat though, I remember.

(Yuui. Fai.

…_Fai_.)

Souma tries to suppress any hostility she has for my special treatment from Tomoyo by making polite conversation. "I apologize if Kurogane caused any trouble for you on your journey. He can be a handful sometimes, and awfully rude as well."

I laugh out loud. "Not at all! I mean, he can be rough, but really, Kuro-tan is just a big softie on the inside."

(Welcome distraction. I'm worn out and the Thirst is a persistent, infuriating fly and oh, I don't want to face what I might find, who lives in the village, what it might mean for me.

But at the same time, I spur my horse on faster.)

The look on Souma's face is positively scandalized. "_Kuro-ta_n? I hope for your sake that you don't call him that to his face."

"But I do, Souma-san. Frequently. Among other nicknames. Like Kuro-sama, Kuro-chi, Kuro-daddy… And I'm still alive."

"Kuro_-daddy._" Her voice is faint.

"Yes, he's a very good father." I nod reassuringly. "Two lovely children. And this here," I prod Mokona lightly, "is the, er, family pet."

Souma is past the point of trying to make sense of me, trying to figure out whether I'm joking or not. I'm not, but there's no way to prove it. I'll make sure to tease Kurogane right in front of Souma next time. I wonder what kind of expression she'll wear then.

"So who's the mother?" she asks slowly, as if she isn't sure if she wants to know the answer or not. Probably not.

(I've questioned to myself what type of relationship Souma has with Kurogane on several occasions throughout our travels. Curiosity.

Mostly.)

"Well…"

* * *

I don't even realize we've almost arrived until Souma points it out to me, half asleep as I was, but as soon as I hear her voice I jerk fully awake- how long have we been riding? Not sure. But because Mokona's still with me, I can still communicate with her.

(Aha, see how prepared I am!)

She asks me what I'm looking for.

I reply, "Myself."

She starts to take that as she takes everything I've said so far- with a generous helping of salt and a strained "I see", but then her eyes widen and her mouth forms an 'o' as she makes the connections in her mind.

"You're here to find the Twins of Misfo-"

"You've heard of them?"

"Ninjas are intelligence collectors," she points out with the raise of an eyebrow. "I was told the twins have hair the colour of the moon and eyes the shade of the sky and that their happiness curses the people around them. You think that one of them is you?"

I am about to answer when I crash bodily into what feels like a huge brick wall. That's on fire. And that has thick thorny vines growing all around it.

(Damn, _ow, _that_ hurts_.)

The Thirst flares up inside me, raging and shrieking and throwing a tantrum as I sit stunned and in a great amount of pain. It's like someone decided to splash a tub of boiling wax on me and then chip all of it off with a fucking needle. I'm on the ground, pushed right off my horse. There's nothing in front of me, though. Nothing that could've hit me like that.

And what's more is that the horses and Souma seem absolutely fine. Mokona is still curled in the saddle. Souma swings off her steed and grabs both of the reins, coming towards me with a worried look. She asks if I'm okay.

No, but I've taken worse pain than this. "Thank you, I'm fine. What was that?"

"You just rode into a kekkai. A very strong one as well."

(A spiritual barrier that keeps demons out. Great.)

Ignoring the splitting headache that has formed, I stand up and brush myself off.

"But in the castle…"

"Princess Tomoyo is priestess of Shirasagi Castle. She is the one who keeps the kekkai in place. She has dropped the barrier temporarily due to your… condition."

Now that Souma mentioned it, I can feel a faint pulse of energy emitting from the house just beyond the barrier.

It feels achingly familiar of wind-songs and family and the quivering ribbons of colourful radiance above icy nothingness, and I immediately know this is it. Maybe it's because my soul recognizes itself in its entirety, but I swear by whatever omnipresent deity there may be in the sky, I can _feel_ an echo of my heartbeat.

(I need to get to that house.)

Its walls are grey and cracked and the thatched roof has arrows sticking out of it, making it look like a wild pincushion- oh, just beyond that door, just-

Raising my hand, a stream of light pours forth from my finger as I write _Open_ on the barrier that separates me from my destination. But I don't finish before I turn my head to the side in a coughing fit, my body shaking as I hack up a mouthful of blood. Souma shouts something unimportant at me as she tries desperately to support my weight.

I swallow.

(Nothing like Kurogane's at all- it's coppery and salty, disgusting in its taste and wrong in its texture and the Thirst feels cheated.)

My knees struggle to support my weight, and fatigue threatens to pull me under, but it doesn't matter, I just need to get past the barrier. I have zero magic left, it seems. Except- oh-

(Hitsuzen. You've brought me Syaoran and Sakura and Kurogane but _I hate you_.)

"…_Fai!"_

Hearing your own voice call your name is a very strange experience, especially when you're not the one saying it.

(I look up into a mirror that isn't a mirror.)

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out except for a thin trickle of blood that I don't bother to wipe away.

"_But-but you're dead!"_

He's standing in the doorway, wearing a plain blue robe, his hair tied back like mine with twine, _two blue eyes_ wide open. On the ground beside him there is a sheaf of scattered paper strips, as if he just dropped them. He walks towards me and then stops when he notices Souma, as if he's afraid to come near.

(Hitsuzen just picked up my already unstable present, my uncertain future, and turned them upside down and _shook_. Until anything and everything falls out and apart and I'm left with the husks of unanswered questions and oh, it's Yuui goddamn it, it's _me_.)

Yuui is crying now, crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut, fisting the fabric of his robe like he's trying to physically stop himself from running to me. "_Fai_, Fai, tell me it's you, I love you, I'm sorry, I love you."

(What cruelty is this, for Fai to be denied a life in this world as well?)

I want to lie, I want to pretend to be my twin just to stop the anguish in Yuui's _(my)_ voice, I want to comfort, and for one second I grasp that I have the extraordinary ability to resurrect the dead.

I can bring back Fai by _being_ Fai. I told Kurogane that I am no longer Yuui- that I have taken up a new identity.

But what comes out of my mouth is nothing but pure truth, for once. "I'm… not Fai."

My chest clenches as Yuui makes a heartbroken noise between a hiss and a wail.

"…I'm actually _you_," I say.

And so I tell him. I tell him the story, and how easily it flows from my mouth now, the shameful secrets that they are, when I've been hiding it so long from the others! I tell him about Valeria and the curse and the tower and Celes; I tell him about my journey, the return to Ashura, the fear, Fai. I explain how I took Fai's name, tell him about the memory-feathers and the vampirism and the closing world and now he isn't crying anymore, his tears gone and his eyes abruptly dry as if someone had turned off a tap. There isn't any shock on his face, only drying tear-streaks. Yuui's eyes are hollow and his face is blanched, pale and still as ivory.

( -only briefly mentioned Kurogane as a person I travelled with, I don't know why, maybe because I'm even more selfish than I claim to be, that and just because I don't want to deal with the real reason. The real reason, which my damnable logic is underlining and highlighting and bolding with a thick, red pen.

I've always taken for granted the fact that my fate, for better or for worse, is intertwined with Kurogane's.

This is a fact. It's a given. It's undisputed and never once since the day I perceived it at the Witch's shop have I denied it.)

Souma isn't as seemingly impervious as Yuui. Her face betrays emotions as easily as Kurogane's does- amazement, horror, wonder, disgust, awe- in successive order, one after the next.

(The real reason is blindingly obvious. Now I know a Yuui exists in this world, while I have no world. He is supposed to be here, alive, while I am by all means _not_. And what's more, he has the _exact same soul_ as I do.

…Do you see what I'm getting at?)

My head is starting to hurt again, great black tidal waves of pain, my mouth rusted over with the aftertaste of blood. When I finish telling the severely abridged version of my life up to this point, Yuui, who I was so happy to see, who was so moved to see _me_, is staring at me with something borderline anger.

(If, theoretically speaking, I never left Celes. Never met Kurogane. And Kurogane remained here in Nihon. There is not a doubt in my mind that he would have met _this_ Yuui someway or another, because that is the way hitsuzen works. That is the way souls are connected.)

"I believe you," Yuui states, and I can imagine how he is feeling right now. Dead. I have taken the brilliant, shining hope that his brother is somehow alive again, and I have killed it mercilessly with my words. Not only that, but I have destroyed what his life used to be. I suspect that he already knew about the existence of different worlds and soul-connection, but still-

"What now?" he asks, his voice empty of emotion.

Souma looks between us awkwardly, as if seeing us with new eyes. "Well, if you two are really the same person, it makes Yuui-san a guest of the palace as well. You can come reside in the castle for the time being. There's room on my horse, the trip won't be too long if we hurry."

The faint anger that darkens Yuui's face erupts suddenly into full-out indignation. "I'm never riding on the same horse as a dog of the Empress." He starts picking up the falling bits of paper shakily.

The ninja is so insulted that she can't articulate properly. In one swift motion, she pulls a kunai out of nowhere and points it at Yuui. I shout and try to stand in front of her, but my legs still aren't cooperating. "Speak against the Empress again," Souma says in a tone carefully controlled, "and I'll kill you."

Yuui holds up a thin rectangular piece of paper in front of him like a shield, and I can see now that there is writing on it, wait, hold on- paper can't protect you from sharpened steel- but Yuui seems oblivious to it, and he whispers, "That Empress is the reason why Fai is dead."

(…What?)

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"She knew us. She knew we were being attacked." Yuui shrugs. "She couldn't be bothered in her castle- all the royalty is corrupted to its core. Fai was stoned to death trying to shield me from the villagers. Trying," raising his voice, "to save _me_! When I should've been the one protecting him! It was partly _my_ fault as well-"

"Why were you being attacked?" Souma lowers her weapon ever so slightly.

"Because we killed six civilians, plus leader of the village."

"How?!"

"I don't know. By being born?"

(Yes. The cursed children.)

I can't take this anymore. The parallels- they are noticeable even to Souma. The sky isn't as dark as it was a moment ago, we need to go, I need to get back, there's a promise I made.

"Ride with me then, Yuui," I offer. "Tomoyo-hime is kind, and life in the castle can't be worse than a life in a shack, harassed by villagers." I know now why there are arrows sticking out from the roof.

Yuui watches me, and it's unnerving, just a bit- he has a detached, calculating look on his face, but then it's gone, and for the first time since I've seen him, he smiles.

(I don't like it. I've worn that very smile on my face countless times before, and those are the very smiles that Kurogane hated me for- fake, flimsy as the paper Yuui tried to defend himself with, but as impenetrable as a fortress.)

"Alright, if you put it that way…" He hesitates. "…Fai."

The ride back is tense and relations between Yuui and Souma are pulled tighter than a piano wire, but I take no notice. Mokona, who I've forgotten about in the saddle somewhere along the line of everything that happened, is still asleep, the lucky thing. I can only hold onto the reins loosely, blearily taking note of Yuui's arms tightly around my middle, even my night vision failing as my sight blurs into swirling shades of grey.

The stars are gone by the time we arrive, and the edge of the sky is golden syrup. The horses' steps are laboured- they must be tired, but I bet not half as tired as I. I practically fall off the white stallion, and I guess Souma must take pity on me, because she suggests that I go rest while she tends to the horses and brings Yuui to Tomoyo. I thank her and tell her to wake me if anything important happens, and bid goodnight (good morning) to Yuui. He waves once.

Holding Mokona, I let my feet carry me down a walkway that is already becoming familiar to me, and slide open one of those pretty, decorated doors. Mokona stirs slightly- what a time to wake up, after the entire night.

It's Kurogane's room, of course, and I collapse in an undignified heap beside his mattress, completely devoid of my usual grace, dropping Mokona on a pillow, and Kurogane wakes. He sits up and stares at me blankly.

"You look like shit," he comments in typical Kurogane fashion.

"Mm. I sure feel like it." On the brink of slumber, I mumble, "By the way, Kuro-chan. I brought a Yuui back from my midnight expedition. I won against the sun, though. Like I promised."

"Uh huh. Go to sleep."

A blanket is draped over me gently. It's already warm.

I dream of blue-eyed boys running barefoot through fields of a vivid green, cherry blossom petals circling wildly through the air. The petals turn to washed-out snowflakes, each one intricately detailed, and then they turn to drops of blood. I dream of the redness, of dashes of deep scarlet, of eyes the same colour. I dream of soft sighs and softer touches, of wine bottles filled with liquids other than wine. I dream of bandages and crowns made from the textiles of heaven. I dream of two people meeting, then three, then two again.

And then I dream of nothing at all.


End file.
